Drive
by yelloellow
Summary: One Shot. T for language. Summers point of view. Please Read and Review....Reposted since I found a mistake that interferes with the fic....


I wrote this on the way back from visiting my mom in the hospital about a month and a half ago. I was just staring out the window and the first line to this one shot came into my mind and I decided to see it through.

Is it good?

Is it bad?

I don't know. I just know that after I wrote it, I didn't feel satisfied with it and ended up re writing and I still didn't feel good about it and then well….I just kept changing it and changing it and I really don't know if it's any good or not. Oh well right? I mean at least I tried.

So here I am posting it and it's really quite self explanatory when you read it who's view this is. (

**Disclaimer- I don't own Gilmore Girls….and I am not to sure who owns it now….but I don't own it and I just own whatever the heck I wrote here….yes. That's all I own….yes**

As always, please read and review this fic….who knows…maybe another one will pop out.

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Contrary to popular belief I am not a _bitch_.

Nor am I cold-hearted or a slut and I am certainly not a hooker as some people would like to believe.

I am a junior at a private school and I know that I am going to end up living a life that my parents choose for me. Doesn't matter if I have other plans or other ideas on how I want to live my life.

I am going to end up organizing parties, social events, becoming an alcoholic and maybe even a drug user, though that is unbearably overdone. I am also going to end up married to some handsome business heir who will end up fucking numerous secretaries while I fuck numerous other husbands, possibly those of my so-called friends, and the hired help while ignoring the obviously spoiled and lonely children that my _husband, _and I use this term very lightly, and I create out of some drunken rage. Possibly even drug induced and if I am lucky, I won't remember the fucking at all.

Most likely all of this before I turn _30_.

I am pretty though. At least I can say that. Long, luxurious, wavy, brown hair that I sometimes straighten, sparkling, lust inducing eyes and with a smile that could blind someone, I am what you call amazingly pretty.

Actually scratch that.

I am not _pretty_.

Nope.

Rory Gilmore is _pretty._

I am what you call _beautiful_ and _cover worthy_. So _gorgeous_ that a simple glance at someone would cause them to not only give me _all _of their money, but to also give me whatever I ask for. Even if it means giving up what they _want_ in life or what they think they _need_ in order to be _happy_.

_Happiness._

I laugh at that term.

There is no such thing as _being happy_. It's not an emotion. It's a notion created by the worlds oblivious so as not only cheer them selves up but to also feel like there is something in life to work towards besides fucking, money, and well, _fucking_.

I have never been _happy._

How can I be when it doesn't actually exist?

But if it the _fucking_ term must be used, then lets _fuck _with it. It will probably be an essay question to answer for some brainless university application that people like Paris Geller will obsess over until they craft the _perfect_ thing to say.

I _laugh_ at Geller.

I can't stop laughing at her actually. She's so incredibly _lame_. It's like she honestly doesn't believe that if her parents gave a generous check to whatever fucking school she wants to go to that she won't end up there. It's like she thinks she needs to actually _work_.

And I hold it to good account that the only reason that her name is _Paris_ is because her mother went in a drunken fit and ended up naming her after the city that was considered the most beautiful in hopes that she'd turn out _belle-belle_ rather than what everyone in society saw; a little ugly thing that wouldn't ever become a _swan._

But do I pity the sad thing that will never be able to hold onto some guy because she's so incredibly _scary_, has no personal taste, and doesn't seem to know where the hygiene aisle is?

No.

Why should I?

I wasn't born to be a _charity case helper._

I was born to be a diva as well as someone who would continue to _demand_ what they wanted from their life and go after it until they achieved it.

I have what many would call _drive_.

_Drive_ to groom myself for the person that I am going to become no matter if I want to or not.

_Drive_ to prove myself to myself about how hard I can be.

_Drive_ to have to control the situation how I want to and even get on top to _drive_ my way to distraction. Or pure bliss.

I want to experience everything and nothing and not let anyone know it.

I want to live five, six, even eight different lives before I graduate.

Why?

Because I know that I am a_ bitch_ in the making.

I am going to end up living like my mother and her mother and her mother and her mother before that.

One repetitive line that will do what _tradition_ tells them to do.

Steal some other child's teddy bear in kindergarten, stomp on it and then give it back to them, mangled and horrific looking all the while saying that it was an accident and moving onto the next stuffed animal.

Kiss a boy in grade four even if you know that you should wait.

Have one grope you in seventh grade while you're at their house doing a "project". Bonus points if it's for science.

Lose your virginity to a male from the _Dugrey_ family in the eighth grade, doesn't matter if so called male was twenty years older than you are. Thank god Tristan had been in most of my classes that year, otherwise I'd have to have had sex with his unfortunate looking cousin Daren.

Tristan.

That's where things stopped when it came to _Tradition._

_Tradition_ in my family meant to wait until you were out of high school in order to have oral sex. We were supposed to be princesses, not the queen and yet that was what I was.

Tristan was the King. I was his Queen.

It makes me laugh when people think I am in love with him or that he is in love with me.

Or the fact that he was ever in love with me.

What we did in the eighth grade was because he needed someone to fuck and because I needed some _Dugrey_ to fuck me.

What we did in the ninth grade was because he was power hungry and born to lead.

He wasn't supposed to become reigning King until he got to tenth grade as_ tradition_ dictates in his family.

In tenth grade, we became official.

Actually it became completely official.

We were now monarchs or at least as close as you could get to becoming royalty in Hartford.

Tristan and I dated on and off and we were fuck buddies to say it mildly. We would break up and then get back together and then break up and then get back together. Yada Yada Yada. This was our cycle. Our pattern.

It was basically an unwritten rule for us to break up and then hook up with as many of the other sex that we could before getting back together again.

At least it _was_ our pattern.

Then Rory Gilmore came to Chilton.

From the beginning I knew that my role as Queen of Chilton would never change. Even if the King got a new Queen. I would always be the Queen and she, whoever she was, would just be the mistress or the _other_ Queen.

So was I bothered when I always saw Tristan mooning over her either in the halls or in class? When he bantered with Miss Oblivious or tried to get her to say yes to a date? No. I knew that we weren't in love and that he could care less about what happened to me after high school finished.

Wouldn't we get married since we were obviously "high school sweethearts"? No. Though we had to _lose_ our virginities to _Dugrey_ men, we weren't allowed to _marry_ them or even be _courted_ by them after high school.

So what did I care if Tristan went after another girl while I was still there? I was going to be replaced no matter what happened. Not like I was naïve enough to think that we would always be in this vicious-string-along-until-something-better-comes-along-cycle.

Even when we were together I knew that he had sex with numerous other girls. Together. Not together. It didn't matter. He was Tristan _Dugrey_ and if he wanted to fuck some girl he could do so no matter what was going on.

Hah.

At least until he fell for Rory Gilmore.

A month and a half into term he stopped fucking girls.

He even stopped fucking me. I don't know how he did it or if he only fucked girls older than him or from other schools now that she was here, but he just _stopped_ fucking.

Or at least I think he did.

He loved her. He got called on it and didn't deny it.

He asked her out numerous times and she denied him. He even went after her boyfriend Dwayne. Maybe the whole "I'll kill you" bit from her boyfriend spooked her because the next school day she came back single.

Single. Single. Single.

I could see that he was hopelessly infatuated with her and that she in turn was now infatuated with him. She wouldn't say yes to him though. He had me as a girlfriend even if our relationship was open from both sides. She wanted him all to herself and on a leash so no one but her would be able to do what every girl on this side of the US wanted to do with Tristan _Dugrey_; kiss him and hug him and be able to hear the words "I love you" back _sincerely_ when she said it to him.

So I was _nice _to her. I ran into in the hall ways and if no one was looking, I'd run her into the walls. I'd steal her stuff and spread nasty, nasty rumors about her. See that's how nice I am. That's _my_ version of nice. I wasn't born to be _nice._ I was born to be a ruthless little vixen. I did everything I could to embarrass the fuck out her.

And yet he _still_ looked at her with longing.

And yet she _still_ looked at him with longing.

Tristan kept bothering her like the two year old he was when he couldn't get something that he wanted or desperately needed.

Rory kept denying him because he had me.

It went on.

And on.

And on.

And on.

Until Madeline's party.

You see I had gotten tired of _their_ act. _Their _drama. _Their _love story.

I had gotten tired of being in a _relationship_ that was only one in word even if it _was_ according to _tradition_.

So I did what any girl does before her boyfriend dumps her.

I dumped him at a party and did everyone in the world a favor.

He could have broken up with me, set himself free. No. He could never actually "break up" with me. I was his back up and security. I was _tradition._ Come graduation, I know it'd be over and that he would have someone new and previously chosen from the one family that dated _Dugreys_ until they were married to some other girl that they had previously never fucked, but until then, I was going to be his back up slash security.

But I got tired of that and broke up with him. Actually _broke_ up with him. No more, no more _broke_ up with him.

You should have _seen_ his eyes.

He wasn't even _sad_ that he we had broken up. He was _mad _that he didn't get to break up with _me_ and follow the decades old rules where _Dugreys_ broke up with everyone and _Dugreys_ got back together with everyone, but he did seem grateful.

He left the room, I moved on to Johnathon. Mmm. _He_ was a good fuck.

Two weeks later, Little Brown Riding Hood and Tristan were together.

I see them everyday, mooning and hugging and kissing and blushing.

They are in _love_.

Pathetically and hopelessly in _love._

So no, I am not a bitch for breaking up with Tristan. I mean I am, but I am also just an observant, intelligent and blunt girl that knows when to cut her losses and move on.

So fuck me.

It'll be fun soldier.

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So that was that. Please review!


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